Transmigrated Into The Body Of The Cursed Prince Wife - Chapter 44: Assigned task

As a Ten-year reader of online literature, Jiang Si, unlike others, has unwavering confidence that he can pave his own path of Cultivation.Taking the predecessors in online literature as his goal, he continuously searches for a way to step onto the path of Cultivation.However, unfortunately, his world is ordinary, without any Extraordinary Power.Just as Jiang Si was beginning to waver, his transmigration opportunity finally comes over.Yet the Extraordinary Power in that world is:Magical Girl.Although it was somewhat different from what he imagined, and the system of power for Magical Girls was completely different from the online literature he had read before, it doesn't matter.As long as it can help him step onto the path of Cultivation, what does it matter if he transforms into a Magical Girl?He, Jiang Si, is going to start from a Magical Girl and dominate eternity!

Travel across different worlds and become a fallen aristocratic lord. With the help of the proficiency panel, you can start your liver experience with the ancestral knight breathing method, follow the wizard’s footsteps step by step, and embark on a bizarre and mysterious journey.

- Description from novelbuddy

A dungeon core novel. But with bees. A bee dungeon, if you will. Oh, and something about a young man finding his place in the world and maybe learning about the deadly calamity that threatens all of humanity. But mostly the bee thing.

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”